


Chapter Thirty: A Fistful of Steel

by CavalierConvoy



Series: MTMTE Series One: Shoot Straight with a Crooked Gun [31]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers Generation One, Transformers Generation Two, Transformers: Beast Machines, Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Deja Vu, F/M, Gen, Other, Politics, Possession, Revolution, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 07:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3602082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the temporally stranded Maximals continue to plot their escape from the planet, Depth Charge confronts Pantera on the sinking suspicion she's not telling the full truth. But what is the truth when double memories bombard all three of them? </p><p>Meanwhile, on Cybertron, three hundred years from now, Rattrap admits he, too, is receiving glimpses from the sideways time line, but unlike Pantera's link to the <i>Lost Light</i>, he is seeing a Cybertron populated by neutral mechs, leading to question if both visions are connected, how is seeing a time before he was created?</p><p>And on board the derelict <i>Lost Light</i>, Thrust, in hopes to curry favour with Megatron, stumbles on an intimate adversary he is powerless to resist....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chapter Thirty: A Fistful of Steel

Groovin', playin' this game called survival  
The status, the elite, the enemy, the rival  
The silent sheep slippin', riffin', trippin'  
Give ya a glimpse of the reality I'm grippin'  
\--["Fistful of Steel"](https://youtu.be/jg8zR91tgSE) by Rage Against the Machine, from  _Rage Against The Machine_

 

Unknown Planet  
One Decacycle Ago

Scavving for energon was the easy part; the graveyard had plenty of fuel rods. Pantera made herself useful by retrieving enough for the journey. According to Depth Charge and confirmed by Hellfire, the transwarp was good for one hop, two max, and would do no good on a temporal plane. Energy was energy, and if they could make it to Sirius II, at least it was a starting point.

The weight of the rods was not an issue. They were cumbersome, and she managed four rods balanced on her shoulders with each trip to the repaired 'hopper. On the third trip, Depth Charge joined her.

"Ain't the migraine bothering you now," he initiated as she loaded him up. "Ain't the kid, either."

 _How much did he hear?_ "Have you noticed something...odd...about this place?"

"Been trying not to since coming here. But yeah. All the same starhopper, all mine. The kid's been talking about it?"

"He called it a graveyard of possibilities." Pantera paused to study the surface of one that had the wings shone from its fuselage. "I remember Rampage destroyed it when you first arrived on Earth."

Depth Charge did not respond straight away, the silent sentinel. "You mentioned double memories."

"Yeah. There's a lot of that going around," she sighed, shouldering four more rods before they trekked back to the functioning 'hopper. "I'm not certain how to approach this, but for Sky and I, it's been over a stel since the Beast Wars. We made it to Cybertron, but things got bad."

Depth Charge maintained silence, but he nodded, inviting her to continue.

She told him of Megatron's escape and conquest — leaving out the transorganic mutation — and how they had come across the _Lost Light_ above Iacon Harbour, and how they found the malfunctioning quantum generator.

"Which means," she concluded, "that it's likely I'm not your Pantera."

"Could've fooled me," he harrumphed, without hesitation. "Though might explain why the feather duster isn't getting all uppity."

"You're quick to accept it."

"Crash landed on a planet I can't find in the star charts, multiple copies of my ship, found only two others — one being you, the other being _him_ —" this, he spat, "in the vicinity? At this point, 'Tera, you could tell me I'm the next Prime and I'd have to consider it." He hesitated, cupping a hand around her neck as though proving to himself she was real. "I remember dying, 'Tera. I think I died. I never made it to the CR."

She could have told him the truth — the truth she knew. Instead, she shrugged, the rods clanking. "Double memories, Blue; I was looking at me — Artemis — on board the _Lost Light_ with a blast hole where her spark should have been. How'd you think that made me feel? Thing is, we're alive. And we're needing to figure out what happened to the _Lost Light_."

"Not really my style to plan too far ahead," he set his armload down in the bomb bay of the 'hopper, "but what about afterwards? If you're from a stel ahead of me...?"

"Me? I'm with you. You go, so do I. At this point, that's all that matters."

That, she meant.

 

*

Iacon Harbour Underground  
Cybertropolis  
Three Hundred Stels From Now

The locker door creaked from stels of disuse.

"There could be looters, you know," Rattrap reminded.

"Not down here," Pantera growled, resisting a sneeze. "Nothing's been down here since the Maximal conversion. Forgotten. Just like history."

"Heh. Sorry I asked," Rattrap jumped down from his perch on her head, then pushed the door open to reveal its contents.

"Huh." Pantera exhaled, relieved. The large rifle, identical to the one left behind in the _Lost Light_ , was in its case, locked in place. Two large handguns, one blued, the other one matte black, were bolted on either side of the rifle's muzzle. "So, I'm me. That's — a relief. So the _Lost Light_ 's from an alternate time line, after all?"

"Eh, not my cuppa, pussycat," Rattrap shrugged, helping her shut the locker door. "That would be the feather duster we left back at the ship. Speaking of which, why'd we leave him?"

"He's the one who got us out of the line of fire," Pantera reminded. "He stayed behind to control the generator, keep it from expanding past the ship."

"Yeah, of course." Rattrap chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Now that you mention it...."

They both had their doubts, but were reluctant to expand on them, for all the same reasons Pantera had before she opened the locker.

"So, we still gonna take care of the tunnels?" Rattrap continued. 

She nodded. "Demolition charges are kept in the back lockers. As so long as Roadbuster and Springer hadn't changed the codes, we should be golden."

Rattrap picked up the rear, following her deeper into the bunker. As they passed what appeared to be a lounge of sorts, dusty from disuse, Pantera stopped, studying a cabinet, before continuing on. "First drink as a Wrecker," she mused. "Primus's Chosen, tungsten-casked, aged a thousand stels. It may or may not have been stolen."

"'Tera?" Rattrap rose to his haunches, sniffing the stale air. "Um...this may not be the right time and all...but what made you go Maximal, rather than...you know...leave?"

"I still had things to do," she admitted. "At least I thought I did. It's that concept of revolution where you overthrow the old government and put the leaders of the revolution into the new government. Problem is, some of us didn't know what we were doing. And slag happened anew. Hence the name 'revolution'."

"Is that where we're heading, you think?" Rattrap questioned.

"It's so much more to it than overthrowing the current leader." She scoffed. "Take Starscream. Him as leader of the Decepticons would have been a blessing to the Autobots, because while he had charisma and intelligence, he wouldn't have been able to maintain a working government. He was too stuck on himself. But yes, what is the plan, after we take care of Megatron and the Vehicons? We not only have to return our people back to working shells — and not just any shell, but because of this virus, a mutated shell that they may not welcome, even reject ... Primus, you think you and me could act as shrinks?"

"Kinda hopin' that boss monkey has a plan — "

"Primal's a squadron commander. Eight of us at one time, would you say? We're talking hundreds of thousands — millions — of sparks, just in this vicinity. We'll need first responders — medical, psychological, law enforcement — hitting the streets, maintaining crowd control. Those with governing experience, get some semblance of government in place, a parliament or senate or council to ratify a constitution...."

"You've been thinking about this a while, haven't you?"

"Since I hit this rock, yeah. If there's a way to summon certain sparks — I don't know, that would be in the realms of Primal's ability — bring out the first responders, explain the situation. Then we have to rebuild the government, and that's where things get dicey. If the government's controlled by the winners of a conflict, then the losers no longer have representation." Pantera turned her head, looking back to the locker room. "'You are being deceived.'"

"We're talking the Vehicons, 'Tera! With the exception of the Big Three, they're drones!"

"And the Predacon victims of Megatron's purge? How are they going to react to a Maximal-run government?"

"Braddore and Black Arachnia — "

"—will be seen as traitors. Maybe not outwardly, but they're sporting red." Her shoulders slumped. "I don't know if I can be a part of that responsibility."

"But you were an Elder — "

"In hindsight, it was a way to control me," she snarled. "I thought I'd be able to make a difference. I was wrong, just like I've been wrong all through my existence. They pulled the same slag they did that made me run violet for four million stels, Rattrap, and I fell for it all over again. I'm done with the politics. It's all slag and I'm done with it."

Rattrap opened his mouth to speak, but froze, swaying side to side, before shaking his head. "What in the name of Gouda — "

"Flashback," Pantera explained, resuming her trek. "I've been getting them since the quantum wave. Like a memory but not. Likely from the _Lost Light_ time line."

"That don't make sense," the rodent Maximal pointed out, taking up her rear. "That was three hundred stels ago; I wasn't online then."

Pantera's ears perked up. "What did you see?"

"Cybertron, but...." He trailed off, coming up along side her. "It was ... what's a NAIL?"

"Non-aligned indigenous life. Cybertronians who left, wanting no part in the war. Like the Rejected, or the Junkions."

"NAIL-run Cybertron." Rattrap muttered. "And...I was there."

"Okay, let's make a hypothesis and bring it up to Sky when we get a chance: this NAIL-run Cybertron you're seeing? Maybe you've got a counterpart there, like me and the _Lost Light_ Artemis, because that's what my flashbacks are stemming from. These exist, possibly within the same timeline."

"We survived the blast," Rattrap speculated, "but we were...linked...to our other-dimensional selves?"

"Seems to be what we've got running now," Pantera nodded. "Just keep me posted whatever you see; I think there's clues there. I mean, at least on my end of things. If you're glimpsing Cybertron, there could be other factors. Connecting factors."

"You're taking this all in stride."

"Little choice in the matter. We gotta survive, Rattrap. And we gotta survive any way we can."

_"Have to. 'We have to survive.'"_

_I'm not on the Senate floor anymore, soldier. I can speak however the hell I want._

 

*

 

 _Lost Light_  
Above Iacon Harbour

 

Thrust was going to regret this mission.

In his upright mode, he teetered on the edge of the cliff. Megatron sent him and Obsidian to scout an energy spike in the Iacon district of Cybertropolis. The helicopter had taken his drones into Iacon Proper, after detecting a Maximal signature in the lower levels, accessible only by the air from this position.

But what interested Thrust was the ship embedded into the rock. 

"Hey, boss," Thrust hailed, wincing at the feedback in his comm unit. Well, checking in was a no-go. It would be nice to bring something back to curry favour as the only surviving first-wave general of Megatron's army. 

Transforming into his cycle mode, he backed up for distance, then popped his clutch and launched over the cliff, landing on the top of the ship in the cliff. It was massive, the scale was a city borough unto itself. Thrust reverted upright and leapt to the ledge.

The wound in the hull beckoned for further investigation. The Maximals may have left, and Obsidian chose to follow, but this...this was the nucleon mine Megatron would be interested to acquire.

Thrust was unprepared for the first room. "What in hell...?" he swore, navigating around the slaughtered Autobots. "Hey, Boss? Obsidian, you still in comm range?" Both hails dropped; he cursed again and continued through the floor, his headlight scanning.

"Oh, this is rich," he growled, his beam illuminating the dead. "This wasn't the boss's doing, that's for certain."

_< <You like talking to yourself, Thrust?>>_

The voice through the ship's intercom jarred the Vehicon to attention. "Who's there?" he demanded. The voice had needled something in his spark, something that twitched with primal fear.

_< <Figure it out, degenerate; you're a smart one — at least you like to believe so.>>_

"You Autobot or Maximal?" Thrust demanded, cycling his weapons online. "Either way, gonna take your spark."

_< <Oh, look, I'm positively shaking in my afterburners. What chance do you have, facing off with me? You failed to fend me off last time, if memory serves.>>_

Thrust halted, engine idling as he dropped his arms, slumped his shoulders. "Ah, slag, not you."

_< <Got it in one, bug-boy. And seeing that the universe found its favourite punching bag again, I'm willing to make a deal.>>_

"A deal with you? You out of your mind?" 

_< <Heh.>>_

Something creaked behind Thrust. Rationalising the ship settling, the feeling dissipated as his proximity alert pinged on his HUD. "Yeah, I'm an idiot," he groused, turning to face whatever was behind him.

And looked up, meeting the blank stare of a white and red Autobot corpse, short swords on each hip and one large one on the back, dwarfing the Vehicon. Its mouth was stretched in a grotesque yawn.

_< <I wouldn't wish to contradict you, Thrust.>>_

Thrust, defeated, held his appendages in surrender. "Fine. What do you want with me?"

_< <I need you to attend to these coordinates. The Maximals have a head start, but they do not know of the control system involved. I'll be sending my ... ahem ... new friend with you to assure that you succeed. I'm told his name was Drift...or Deadlock...whatever. He's not much of a conversationalist, but at least you won't get lonely.>>_

A buzzing rose in Thrust's audio receptors; in horror, he realised it was coming from him. With what courage he had left, he demanded, "Why not do it yourself? Afraid to leave your new home undefended?"

And courage failed as heavy footsteps echoed through the ship, approaching Thrust's position. The corpse of Deadlock/Drift blocked his escape.

From the bowels of the ship, a massive Autobot — no, Decepticon! — minus its head approached the Vehicon, kicking away vehicular mode 'bots in its path.

_< <To quote your leader's namesake, a warrior doesn't need a head, just a good, strong body. I will not allow Megatron to take my new "home", as you so put it. And now, you will do as I say.>>_

Thrust hesitated a click too long, and the dead Drift grabbed him by the neck, and, with unnatural speed, raced to the hull breach. 

It was a long way down to the Harbour, and Thrust screamed the entire way.

 

*

 

The force field was holding.  
Which was the least of Starscream's worries. Oh, the good news was that he finally got rid of that pesky conscience that masqueraded under the namesake of a long dead former partner. Not certain how, per se, but he would figure that out later. Now, he had control of the ship, and, with its quantum generator, the possibilities were endless. That trivial ability the Oracle granted him of taking momentary control of sparkless Vehicons was amplified.

 _Wreckers' Spoils_ had been practice. The acid test. This...this was the true game. Without the Matrix forcing his hand, he had complete control. And with the pretender to the name lording above, Starscream now had his own army to take Megatron down and take over.

 _"Except I'm still here,"_ Skyfire hissed by Starscream's stolen audio receptor. _"You do realise what you woke up by pulling this stunt, right?"_

"Feh. Data ghosts and glitches do not concern me."

 _"They should, Starscream, because, if you recall, I'm the quantum physicist. You?"_ Skyfire chuckled, a sound that seemed more attuned to Starscream's own. _"Oh, I think this will be fun."_

"A mere annoyance; you have no control over me." The strands of quantum foam, lashing the Maximal shell in place on his new throne, buried into his neural net, showing him the possibilities.

The possibilities. 

_"Didn't work for you then,"_ Arty's dead friend observed; Starscream's expanded vision through the foam could make out the large Autobot leaning against the wall. _"What makes you think you're going to succeed this time around?"_

"The difference," Starscream smirked, "is that I am in full control."

 _"Then why am I here?"_ The Autobot's question was equal parts pathos and cynicism.

 _"Yes, Starscream, why is he here?"_ Skyfire demanded. 

The dead Maximal's tone was...unnerving. Still, Starscream maintained the semblence of control. "Entertainment," he responded with a glint in his infected optics. "I need to see someone lose all hope when my plan reaches fruition."

Trailbreaker scoffed. _"Or someone to laugh at you when it fails."_

 _"I second that motion,"_ Skyfire added.

"That, I assure you, will not happen."

 _"That's what all the bad guys say."_ The Autobot retorted.

Starscream reached out, his hand trailing afterimages and mutated foam, to the vehicle in the doorway. "I wonder if it's still possible without a t-cog...."

A horrid screech of gears of a forced transformation as the full-size truck unfolded, a sloppy, painful puzzle. After a few misalignments, the dead Autobot stood sentry at the doorway, the optic band shattered and dark.

"Impressive chin you got there — an officer's jaw, we used to say in the Academy," Starscream observed.

Neither spectre responded, Starscream's point driven home.


End file.
